[Chorus: Stevie Wonder]
Been through the storm, through the cold and rain
Everything's still the same
Can't control how I feel
Sometimes it's hard to keep it real
You see the luxuries in life, with the fortune and fame
Like them Cadillacs with sunroofs mayne
So many ways to make a dollar
Huh, sometimes I think about my father
You see my poppa was broke, and my momma was young
Tryin to blend in with them city folk
Every day landlord knockin down my do'
Wonderin where my next blessing is comin from.
[Busta Rhymes]
My momma and poppa, moved to the U.S. as Jamaicans
Struggled to get visas and green cards through immigration
Though my pop was po', stayed away from crime and malice
Hard living gave him hard hands and callous
As a young'n, peep how much they loved each other's space
His hard hands rubbin against the pretty skin of my mother's face
Dig for treasure 'til his hands looked like hands of a junkie
So coarse, slap a mule and take the life from a donkey
On the other hand, mommy was the type to work two jobs
Never enough money, that's why I got your whole crew robbed
Got older, developed ways of grippin the steel
Barely home for me to see her, or get a good cooked meal
Seek refuge in the alleged land of the free, lookin
Blendin in with city folk, down in Flatbush Brooklyn
Feel a little of my pain, follow and sing to it
Homey I seen it all, if you ain't knowin I been through it
In other words I.
[Chorus]
[Busta Rhymes]
Got a little older, late teens, me and my crew would huddle
On the corner late nights, plottin to escape struggle
Nights got cold and still would hustle in the same place
In front of Pancho Delis, now the freeze up on a nigga face
1987 Reaganomics ever curious
to visit other cities, out of town kick was serious
Guayanese jeans bounce, put whatever slinger on
Whatever slinger came back, quickly brought me right along
Nigga ran away from home
Doin different wild shit, just to put a pair of Filas on, 'Didas on
Wreck is all for the good, gettin into shit
Like we innocent, actin older than should
Walk around broke in the hood, watchin all the rich niggaz
These younger thugs who try to choke and try to get niggaz
Thinkin 'bout my mom and pop, while I'm monopolizin
To hell with just gettin by and economizin
It's kinda hard bein humble in the belly of struggle
Doin things that probably get you in trouble
That's why we stay up on the block, gettin money while we keepin it safe
In front of churchgoers keepin the faith
Mom and pop be worryin for they son
Despite they struggle and their honest livin look and see just what I become
A scavenger, in brute pursuit to be happy, another young'n that's wildin
Across the line until somebody tryin to cap me ohhhh shit.
[Outro:]
I been through the storm
Through the cold and rain
Everything's still the same
Can't control how I feel
Sometimes it's hard to keep it real
Woooooooooooooo-whoahhhhhhhhhhhhh
Yeah.
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